


a declaration of independence

by rangerhitomi



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: American Revolution AU, Complete crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6471832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerhitomi/pseuds/rangerhitomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Reginald Jefferson and Yuma Adams write a declaration of independence from the tyranny of Great Britain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a declaration of independence

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember why I wrote this but by god am I glad I did.

It was sweltering in Philadelphia. Even at the end of June, it was unbearable, made worse by the need for secrecy regarding the Congress’s activities resulting in every damn window in the building being closed and the drapes drawn. And yet Congress sat on its hands and moaned and groaned about the possibility of independence – oh yes, because all of the injustices done to these colonies by the mother country for more than a decade might suddenly _get better_ – and it was all Yuma could do to restrain himself from challenging those spineless Carolina wusses to a duel to the death.

Well, he _did_ believe that one useless man was a shame, two made a law firm, and three or more became a congress.

At least Virginia was on board with the idea of independence. With Kaito Washington leading the army against the British and the Virginia delegation being the one to propose Yuma’s resolution on independence, at least one of the southern states wasn’t being a jackass.

If only Jefferson would hurry and write the declaration of independency so they could get everyone to vote in favor of independence. What a chore. What a headache.

“What have you written?”

Reginald Jefferson sat in a dimly lit room, spinning idly in a chair. Yuma stopped to admire the fact that Reginald had invented the spinning chair using the pulleys on the window or something. But then he remembered that Reginald had done that instead of writing the declaration. Which was slightly more important.

Reginald shrugged and gestured to a stack of crumpled papers littering the floor. Yuma bent and picked one up.

“Fuck you, King George,” he read. That was it. He looked up. “Mr. Jefferson, I don’t think this would make a very convincing argument in favor of independence.”

He shrugged again and continued to spin around slowly.

Yuma picked up another piece of paper and frowned at it. “Um, I don’t think saying ‘suck on these Intolerable Acts,’ having General Washington display his manliness, and then hopping on the back of an eagle and flying off with a choir singing ‘God Smite the King’ in the background would be a practical alternative.”

“It _would_ be pretty badass, though.”

“It would,” Yuma agreed. “But I’m having a hard time picturing General Washington, ah, flashing himself like that.” He bent down to pick up a few more discarded clumps of paper.

“I’m not,” Reginald muttered.

“Did you say something?” Yuma asked absently, tossing a paper with an entire sonnet dedicated to the crimes against humanity that King George was guilty of to the side.

“No.”

“This one has a picture of a cat wearing a crown on it.”

“Symbolic, probably.”

“How is ‘forcing General Howe to make out with Franklin’ going to accomplish anything?”

“It would be hilarious.”

“Reginaaaaald, are you taking this seriously?” Yuma whined, tossing the paper on the small mountain of rejected proposals.

“It’s too hot for this.”

“Too hot? You’re from _Virginia_.”

“Virginia is for lovers and Pennsylvania is for worthless politicians to gather and accomplish literally nothing for an entire year.”

He had a point, and Yuma picked up the last piece of paper with the thought that maybe he and Reginald could at least do a song and dance number to convince South Carolina to just walk out of the convention. Instead, he found something… good. Better than good, even.

“You should come to Virginia with me sometime,” Reginald said in a quiet voice, smiling wistfully. “I think you would enjoy it just as much as I do.”

Yuma didn’t hear him. “’When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary’… mmhmm… a list of grievances, good…”

Reginald sighed dramatically and resumed spinning in his chair.

“By God, Mr. Jefferson, I think this is it!” Yuma smiled brightly and jumped from his own chair. “This is bound to convince the South to join us. I could kiss you.”

“Really? ...I mean… Mr. Adams, I’m a married man.”

Yuma ignored him again and dragged him out the door. They had independence to gain.

* * *

 

“General, a letter from Congress.”

Kite sighed and snapped open the crumpled piece of paper. “This had better be them telling me they’ll send me more munitions and food or I’m going to ride back to Philadelphia and punch some people in the face.”

_Dear Sir,_

_Mr. Jefferson sends his regards to you and the Army which you so nobly lead in eventual victory against the threat of the tyrannical British monarchy. To accomplish these means, Mr. Jefferson suggests that you head to England, tell King George, quote, ‘Suck on these Intolerable Acts,’ and proceed to show him your manhood. After the King has been sufficiently drawn into surrender from the sheer girth of Your Excellency’s godly physique, you are to hop on the back of an eagle and fly back to the American colonies. A choir will be prepared to sing ‘God Save the King,’ except the lyrics will be changed to ‘God Smite the King,’ upon both your departure from England and your arrival in the colonies._

_PS – Congress declared independence on the Second of the month. A copy of Mr. Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence, signed by Mr. Hancock on the Fourth is also on its way to you._

_Your obedient servant,_

_Mr. Franklin_

Kite stared at the paper for a long moment before turning back to General Greene. “Would you be so kind as to send a message back to our honorable Congress for me?”

“Yes, anything.”

“Get this down verbatim.” Kite cleared his throat. “Dear Sir, Give me my blasted munitions and food for my men before I hop on the back of an eagle, fly to Philadelphia, and roundhouse kick every one of you useless sacks of crap in the face. Your obedient servant, K. Washington.”


End file.
